What is Left Behind
by Robias
Summary: When one war is over, the Bookman moves on to the next. That is how it's always be, that is how it always will be. Kanda/Lavi if continued.


Word count: around 1400

Genre: general

Rating: worksafe

Note: Re-posted, although not re-written, at least not this first part. I am not sure if I'll ever finish editing and re-upload the rest of the story, but it's not an impossibility.

* * *

The taste of victory was sweet and fresh in his mouth; the feeling spread through his body like a flame, setting his insides alight, making him feel like his very bones were singing out in triumph. He was too happy not to show it, and so he laughed. Laughed like he'd never be able to stop, and he never wanted this to stop, he never _wanted_ this feeling to go away, this pride, this overwhelming happiness.

In the middle of the enormous crater that was everything that was left of the Earl and his Akuma and his Noah, Lenalee Lee scrambled over gravel and molten Akuma parts to throw herself into the arms of an waiting Allen Walker. They were also laughing, both of them, and neither of them stopped, couldn't seem to stop, not even when the Chinese girl pressed herself close to the young man's chest and pressed her mouth against his.

It barely took one second before Komui had wormed his way through the group of Scientists and Exorcists he'd been occupied with congratulating, his tense posture and dark expression telling a story about a certain white haired man's swiftly arriving death.

Lavi just continued to laugh. He didn't even have to think about it, didn't have to analyze or try to remember if he'd experienced anything that felt like this before, because he just knew that nothing, nothing had ever felt this amazing, nothing would ever feel this amazing again. This was without doubt the best day of his entire life.

To his left, a group of civilians – who they had never managed to get out of the city in which the battle had taken place in time – were helping the Order's nurses and doctors to carry their most severely wounded to somewhere where they'd be able to treat them. He captured a glimpse of long, dark flowing hair, tousled and clotted with blood, and for a moment, the song faded. Kanda was one of those who'd gotten worst off. Lavi knew, because he'd been keeping a close eye on the swordsman during the entire fight. He always fought with an abandon, and the redhead had told him many times before that he'd cause his own death one day, taking risks the way he did, but today he'd been even worse than usual.

Just as he'd started to move towards the retreating group of civilians and nurses, he felt a dry hand gab a hold of his wrist.

"Jii-jii," he said as he turned around to look down on his mentor. The smile was still on his face, he didn't seem to be able to get rid of it, even when worrying about Kanda's life.

"We're leaving," Bookman said, and let go of his wrist.

It took him a moment to process what he'd been told. Lavi just stood there, blinking as the smile faded and the song was silenced, the taste of victory soon turning into a horrible taste of bile and blood and he couldn't be serious, could he? They couldn't be leaving, not _now_, there was still so much Lavi needed to make sure of; that Miranda hadn't exerted herself again, that Kanda's leg hadn't been too severely wounded (the Japanese man wouldn't be able to live with having to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair, Lavi just _knew_ he'd do something stupid if that were the case, and if they left, who'd be there to distract him from those thoughts? Huh?), that Allen wasn't killed by Komui… That his and Lenalee's wedding – sure the kids were young; neither of them had seen more than sixteen years, but both of them were also way more mature than normal sixteen year olds were, and really, middle teenaged marriages weren't that unusual nowadays anyway – wasn't put on hold for too long due to the post-battle cleanup and mourning…

But Bookman's face was serious, the gaze in his small eyes cold as he met the chocked one of his apprentice.

"But…!" Lavi started, shaking his head in disbelief. "We… we can't leave, not_ now_! There are still so much to see here, there are still things we have to make certain of!"

"I'll be exchanging letters with superior Lee," the old man said. "From here on, we do not need to be in immediate contact with the Order to record the happenings, second-hand information will be enough to complete the documentation."

He… he couldn't believe what he was hearing. L-leave? Leave the Order? Leave behind Jerry's food and trying to sneak a whole tub of pepper into Kanda's soba, spying on Allen and Lenalee in the library and wondering if he shouldn't walk over there and help them steer the conversation because they were both so _unbelievably dense_, staying up way too late while listening to one of the oldest Finder's stories about the village he'd come from, far in the desert, where women wore shawls and were not allowed to talk to the men unless they were married, while in the meantime, the men would never dream of leaving their wives, because it was the women who owned the goats, the tents, the homes.

Leave everyone?

Bookman was watching him, and his eyes told Lavi that he understood completely what was going through the redhead's mind. "It is time," he stated. "You've already been here for far too long."

And what was he supposed to say? There was no way he could refuse. His mentor was his _family_, and being a Bookman was the only thing he'd _ever _wanted to do. It was the only thing he could see himself doing.

So therefore, he would have to leave.

"Can I… say goodbye?" he wondered, almost afraid to ask, because somehow, he already knew what the answer would be.

"No. There is no need for goodbyes."

Of course. He realized this as well. To close his mind to the not-necessary feelings he'd developed during his years at the Order should be enough of a closure. It should be enough. Yet he knew it wouldn't be, not by far.

Silently, he followed his mentor as they both slipped into the shadows between two nearly-destroyed buildings. The absence of his Innocence weighed heavy on his mind, as it had for the last months. He wasn't an Exorcist anymore; he had nothing to do with the Order. At all. Those of the Exorcists who had chosen to remain despite having lost their Innocence did it either out of stubbornness, obligation, or simply because they wouldn't have anywhere else to go if they left.

Lavi had somewhere to go, somewhere he _had _to go, there was always another battle which he had to see. His obligation lay with the records, and so his feelings did not matter in the least.

"Boy," Bookman said after they'd rounded what felt like the thousandth corner, and still couldn't see anything but ruined buildings and corpses (the sound of the Order's members cheering had long since vanished in the background; all they could hear now was the rumbling sound of thunder in the distance), "what have you learned from this record?"

It was the standard question that the old man always asked him when they left, when it was time to cast aside his alias. He hadn't heard it in over three years, and though he most certainly hadn't forgotten about it, he also realized that he had spent far too little time on thinking about what he'd learned.

Yet, it only took him about two seconds to come up with an answer.

"That I am far more human than I ever wished to be," he said, his eye fixed on the rubble under his feet. He could feel Bookman's gaze on him, but he ignored it. He wasn't ready to talk to him about this yet. In a few weeks – months? – maybe, but not yet. Right now, he was still mourning the loss of the name which hadn't only been loved by practically everyone he had gotten to know while he was wearing it, but which he'd also come to love _himself_, as well.

"Hrm," was the old man's only reply, before he looked ahead again. "Well enough."


End file.
